Michael Ray – Laguna Beach Local Newshttps://www.lagunabeachindy.com
A Firebrand Media PublicationFri, 18 Aug 2017 01:44:46 +0000en-UShourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=4.6.6Musing on the Coasthttps://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musing-on-the-coast-4/
https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musing-on-the-coast-4/#respondFri, 18 Aug 2017 00:59:56 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=62846A Mystery Unfolds in Panama There were nine of us in Bocas del Toro, a small group of tiny islands off the northeastern shore of Panama. With us were my son Harrison, daughter Gabby and five of their friends, none older than 24. My GF Kim Bowen and I were there to provide adult supervision....

There were nine of us in Bocas del Toro, a small group of tiny islands off the northeastern shore of Panama. With us were my son Harrison, daughter Gabby and five of their friends, none older than 24. My GF Kim Bowen and I were there to provide adult supervision. Ha, ha.

The vacation was a college graduation present to Harrison. He picked the spot, Kim booked it, and we took a red eye from LAX to Panama City, thence a charter flight to Bocas. The charter was a luxury. We could have taken a scheduled airline flight, but my sister Kathy had just died after an agonizing illness, so I thought to hell with it, you can’t take it with you.

I was in mourning but I hadn’t let it out yet.

The Bocas del Toro islands are close together and you get around via small ponga water taxis. They are ubiquitous, cost two bucks and go everywhere. Hey, young wildlings in a crazed Disneyland with water rides.

I told the kids that as tourists we had one prime function: to be fleeced by the locals. Prices usually are not posted, so you are charged the maximum the seller thinks you can pay. Therefore, learn to bargain. The kids thought, meh.

Secondly, there were the usual young American drifters and grifters; they are way more likely to con you than a local. One such guy called himself “Oz” and every word that came out of his mouth was a lie.

However, there is another older, permanent group. They are part of the great American migration to Central and South America. Most are hollowed out, displaced middle-income people looking for less expensive places to live. There is something else, though. They think America has become too violent. The culture that held us together has disintegrated. Any psychopath can purchase an assault rifle, go murder school children and nothing ever changes.

Plus, the internet and Trump have given us constant turmoil. We’re tribal now and increasingly vicious. Panama, Colombia, Costa Rica, Nicaragua and others are considered safer—–and more importantly, saner places to raise children.

From Laguna and Newport alone three friends have migrated.

Finally, I couldn’t stop thinking of Kathy. She was only 15 months older than me. When we were little, we played like puppies. She taught me about shampoo, girls, how to scratch each other’s backs, what to say when you were nervous. She passed on July 5 and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

On the third day in Panama and thinking of her, something mystic happened.

Let me explain. My bedroom there has a high peaked ceiling and at the apex, a ceiling fan with a big central light. The fan worked, but the light did not. The house manager said the light never had worked; the wiring was bad.

On the second night I knew I had to let the grief out. I grabbed a bottle of rum and walked to the end of our pier. I plunged into a good ole Irish drunk and wailed. It went on and on, and eventually Gabby and Harrison gathered around and let me sob. On the horizon were lightning flashes so far away you could not hear thunder. You just saw flashes. They were magnificent.

The next day, I still was going at it, but not so hard. I did not want the kids to see me; I went to my bedroom, sat crossed-legged on the bed with my head down and cried softly. Then that something mystic happened.

There were lightning flashes brightening the room. I went to the windows and looked out. Nothing. The sky was clear. I sat down again on the bed and the flashes intensified. I flopped back, stared straight up and saw it. It was the fanlight. It was flashing on and off. While staring, the light turned straight on, bright, and stayed glittering for maybe two minutes. Then off. That was it. Nothing more.

The next day was a repeat. But this time, I asked, “Kathy, is that you?” More flashes. “Kathy?”

Then the light was intense and constant. “Kathy, did you do that?” More flashing, then it ceased.

I do not believe in any individual religion. For mankind to invent a particular God and state there is no other God but that God is a twisted human conceit born of stupefying arrogance.

But I do believe in the connectedness of everybody and everything. We’re in it together, all of us, and it is infinite and forever.

At least, isn’t it pretty to think so?

Laguna Beach resident Michael Ray is a local real estate developer and board member of several local nonprofits.

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https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musings-on-the-coast-30/#commentsFri, 21 Jul 2017 00:02:31 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=62446No one wants Laguna to become like Corona del Mar. CdM has been ruined by McMansionization. This never will happen in Laguna. Our Design Review Board (DRB) makes sure of that. The DRB has complete authority over the size, design, colors, height and exterior look of all new buildings or remodels. It ...

No one wants Laguna to become like Corona del Mar. CdM has been ruined by McMansionization. This never will happen in Laguna. Our Design Review Board (DRB) makes sure of that. The DRB has complete authority over the size, design, colors, height and exterior look of all new buildings or remodels. It is merciless. Any person who has ever been through it hates it, but once finished everyone wants all other projects similarly subjected.

It is about protecting the integrity of Laguna’s unique texture. No Laguna resident wants that texture ruined.

The question is: why are Village Laguna, many members of the City Council and even some Laguna staff pushing for yet more control?

To do so, they want to expand the list of homes with an “historic designation.” The decision to place a home on the list would not be up to the homeowner. A city appointed “historic expert” would decide and after approved by the City Council, it is final.

I know. It happened to me. I own an old home in north Laguna with a Class C historic designation. This is the lowest of three designations and the least restrictive. The historic “expert’s” opinion was that the house “has no historic significance unto itself, but it adds to the historic character of the neighborhood.” (Yes, historic designation is that arbitrary.) It means I can never change the front of the home, including adding a front porch. So I requested the City Council to vote my house “off” the list. The Council voted 3-2 against my request. They did not wish to create the precedent of allowing even one home off the list. They were hard-core on this.

By comparison, I am one of the lucky ones. Homeowners with higher designations cannot change much of anything. Some homes are tiny, wood-rooted, and leaky, with bad electrical and plumbing, or literally falling down, and the homeowner can’t upgrade or change it. If you own one of these homes, good luck. The city sure won’t help.

And the value of those homes plunges. Who wants to buy an old house you can’t fix or change?

Village Laguna is the local advocacy group pushing for maximum inclusion of homes on the list. Their public Power Point presentation asserts placement on the list does not diminish your home’s value. It likely may increase it. Their proof is a photo of one old house—historically designated—-that sold for asking price on the day it was listed.

I attended a Village Laguna presentation a few weeks ago at the local Unitarian Church. There were about 20 people there, 10 or 11 of whom were regular Village Laguna members. About seven people attended to protest. Maybe four or five were there to seek new information. Village Laguna President Johanna Felder made the presentation. Once finished, she took questions, so I asked one: “Is it the official position of Village Laguna that historical designation not only does not harm a home’s value, it may increase it?” She replied, “Well, the board of Village Laguna has not voted on this issue.”

Huh? Village Laguna is making public presentations and assertions its board has not approved? How does that make sense?

Let’s set aside this unusual dissonance and assume the board supports the assertion of value. Let’s do this because a majority of Council members apparently believes so, too, else why support something that harm’s your home’s value? They are there to protect us, not harm us.

The question is home valuation. Does your home’s placement on the list hurt its value? Or increase it?

I have a modest proposal on this subject and here it is:

First, the City should appoint five known and qualified “historic appraisers” from which any effected homeowner may ask for an appraisal of their home. There would be two appraised values:

House is on historic list. 2. House is not on historic list.

Here is where the fun comes in. Asking for an appraisal would trigger a legal agreement between the city and the homeowner. If the value of the home is higher when on the list, the homeowner would pay the city the difference. If, however, the home value is lower, the city would pay the homeowner the difference.

Whether a homeowner asks the city for the appraisal is up to the homeowner. You pays your money and you takes your chances.

Personally, I believe the cost to the city would be so overwhelming it would go bankrupt.

This may seem absurd, but that does not matter.

What matters is that City Council members put the city’s money where their mouth is. If there is no diminution of value, so what? If there is, the city should pay. Otherwise, it is cynical political posturing.

And Village Laguna, please ask your board to vote on what your public presentation represents. Are home values hurt? Yes or no? Please go public with it. We all want to know.

*With apologies to Jonathon Swift.

Michael Ray is a local real estate developer and a founding board member of Discovery Cube and Orange County School of Arts, of Santa Ana; the Great Park, in Irvine; and Sage Hill School, Newport Beach.

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https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musings-on-the-coast-29/#commentsFri, 30 Jun 2017 01:54:50 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=62081The Hot Blond It was a Wednesday night about 9 p.m. and I was at my favorite joint, The Lumberyard, at the big U-shaped bar, only a few regulars there. I don’t cook, so I eat out a lot and The Lumberyard is my favorite place. I had just ordered my usual martini: Hendricks gin, hold the olive, add fo...

It was a Wednesday night about 9 p.m. and I was at my favorite joint, The Lumberyard, at the big U-shaped bar, only a few regulars there. I don’t cook, so I eat out a lot and The Lumberyard is my favorite place. I had just ordered my usual martini: Hendricks gin, hold the olive, add four squeezes of lime, shake until very cold and then serve straight up. Hey, James Bond.

That was when the hot blond walked in, early-mid 30s, strawberry hair, svelte body, dressed like she had just been at a party, or was going to one short pencil skirt, stiletto heels, low top, on display. But she walked with anger, deliberate, striding swiftly, heels clacking.

She surveyed the bar, circled straight to me, jerked out a stool, plopped down, told the bartender she wanted what I was drinking, then sharply asked me, “What the f… is wrong with this town?”

“Huh?”

“I just got stood up. The frigging jerk-wad didn’t even call. He texted, ‘oh gee I got hung up.’ Jesus, what for? The second coming?”

I had had a long day myself, many problems trying to manage a big new business deal, and I definitely did not need someone dumping on me, so I politely introduced myself and asked her name. “Petra, don’t ask, my parents are from the Ukraine. I grew up in New York, married a Wall Street son of a bitch who cheated on me and his customers, got caught, good for that a… and now his life is in ruins, good riddance. That was three years ago. I took off, thought The Coast would be better. Tried San Francisco, what a joke trying to be a big city. The Silicon a… are as bad as the Wall Street a… and there’s nothing there there, you know? Gertrude Stein, get it?”

“Uh, yeah, I know the reference; we’re not all idiots here.”

“You mean Laguna?”

“Yeah, Laguna.”

She angled her gaze to me, anger still boiling. “You’ve been here a long time, right?”

It was an accusation.

“Yes. It’s home. I’ve been a lot of places. This is paradise.”

That got a reaction like a dog shrugging off water. She had crisp blue eyes that were tight and darting. She downed her martini. “I like this,” and ordered another. Whoa, I thought, slow down.

“You people,” then a pause, “you people don’t get it. I’ve been here three weeks and everyone says Paradise. They don’t get it. You don’t get it. This place sucks. You’re trying to make it into Disneyland. You’re trying to preserve Main Street like a shrine to another generation, Make America Great Again, but it sucks. The same crap tourist shops as Disneyland’s Main Street. Why don’t you name it Lagunaland and call it a day?”

“This place reminds me of my old condo association in New York. The people who take control of it don’t have anything else to do, are busybodies, push their way into leadership, think they and only they know what they’re doing, and then wanna control every damn thing. Right? I’m right, right?”

I answered, “Well, we do have a group called Village Laguna, and …” Petra pointed at me with her right forefinger, interrupted and finished my sentence “And they say they represent thousands when they really represent a few busybodies who think turning this place into Main Street Disneyland is their holy grail, show up at all the civic meetings, speak on every topic, hector the elected officials, bully them, bully everyone, and have mailing lists they use to magnify their bullying. Right, right?”

My pasta had come and I was halfway through. I wanted to leave before she lost it entirely. She could tell I was edgy, grabbed my arm, breasts deliberately leaning into me to make her point. “Look, don’t let them. Get organized yourself. Look around. Nothing here is evolving, the economy is booming and yet your downtown has a bunch of vacancies, and don’t blame the damn internet. I bet your Village Whatever is trying to control who can go where, right, right?”

Before I could respond, she said with a disgusted look. “You know I’m right, that’s what they always do. It’s the same thing. They get some power and want more, then they get more, and that’s not good enough, so they look for even more things to control.”

For desert I usually order a cognac, but not tonight. I went to leave, got the check, paid, then walked home. Petra had ordered another martini.

I did not have the strength to tell her Village Laguna’s current mission is to put every structure more than 50 years old on an historic list, meaning you never can change it, ever, its value destroyed. More than a third of all homes in Laguna would be included.

I did not tell her that and I wonder does anyone care?

Fifth Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America:

“…private property [shall not] be taken for public use, without just compensation.”

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https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/61471-2/#commentsThu, 25 May 2017 19:29:07 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=61471Shark Attack! By now, you’ve read, seen videos of and heard about great white sharks in the local waters. The papers and TV stations are going nuts. Surely you saw the video of the sheriff’s helicopter looking down at 15 great whites directly off Capo beach. The funniest thing was the helicopter l...

By now, you’ve read, seen videos of and heard about great white sharks in the local waters.

The papers and TV stations are going nuts. Surely you saw the video of the sheriff’s helicopter looking down at 15 great whites directly off Capo beach. The funniest thing was the helicopter loudspeaker loudly blaring, “Surfers, there are 15 great whites all around you. Please paddle,” he said, and get this, “please paddle slowly and calmly to the shore.”

Cool. You’ve just scared the hell out of them and you expect them to paddle slowly and calmly with fifteen great whites all around them?

Further, a woman swimming off Big Corona in Newport was attacked and had massive wounds. Experts think it was a mistake; that the shark was tasting her, not liking it, and moving on.

At my favorite Laguna cove, we felt devastated for the woman, but otherwise we were ecstatic by the shark scares. Yeah, get out of the water, now, else great whites will chew your dangling legs, outstretched arms, or maybe your head.

To tell you why we are delighted, let me share a true story about a plane ride I took to Honolulu. The air traffic was jammed, so we slowly circled Ohau at a low altitude. I had a window seat on the left side and we were circling to the left, so I could see the waters below and the creatures in them. It blew my mind. There were several dozen swarms of tiger sharks all cruising right off the surf line and all around the island. The surfers dangled their legs within easy striking distance.

I thought, surely there are shark attacks all around the island, and hurriedly bought the papers to discover how many. But there were no reported attacks. Nada.

So, I researched the issue and discovered the same thing that experts said about the woman off Big Corona. Sharks rarely attack humans. We are not part of their usual prey. We don’t taste right. Nonetheless, those facts do not matter. People are frightened to death.

Last week, the Orange County Register reported that the most popular OC surf spot, San Onofre, was almost deserted. Usually hundreds of surfers compete for the waves, which means you don’t get many rides. On the day of The Register report, only about 10 guys were in the water. One of them said it was one of the best surf days he’d ever had. The surf was a perfect chest high peeling beauty and he could get as many waves as he wanted. He was delighted.

So down at The Cove, we’re delighted too. We are spreading GREAT WHITES!! scare stories as quickly as we can. We want the waters to ourselves.

But, well, our hopes have been dashed. They’ve been dashed because the city comes to the rescue. Laguna Beach spokesperson Roma Rambling declared: “In an emergency meeting of the City Council, we saved Laguna Beach from the sharks. Great whites may roam the waters of San Onofre, Capo Beach, Newport or Seal Beach, but they are not welcome in Laguna anymore: The City Council formally has outlawed them.”

In the following news conference, she went on: “After all, the City of Laguna Beach successfully has banned many things.

For example: We’ve outlawed anything approaching good public art by appointing Arts Commissioners who are incompetent to judge what good public art is.

“We’ve outlawed good architecture by forcing reluctant property owners to endure a series of committees controlled by different sets of incompetent committee members. This tactic took several years to kick in, but now it is working: home owners have capitulated to the inevitable mediocre of design by committees.

“Regarding local retailers, we are getting close to success in banning them via micro-managing where they can locate and what they can sell. Just look around the City. The retail vacancy rate never has been higher. This took years, but finally we are seeing success.

“You know of course we’ve banned smoking. There has been some confusion on this issue as local stoners are too busy getting high to know the ordinance, but they’ll be under control shortly.

“We’ve banned medicinal marijuana dispensaries. They attract criminal classes we do not want in our city. We know illegal drug dealers still will fill the demand; they could be hunted by hardened criminals as they make their deliveries, but that is not our problem.”

After this, there was silence within the gathered press conference reporters. They did not know how to react. Maybe, they thought, Laguna had something going for it. After all, since the ban there have been no great white sightings. It must be safe. The city assures it.

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https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musings-on-the-coast-28/#respondThu, 04 May 2017 21:58:23 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=61108A Look Behind the Sheet Music Classical music isn’t for everyone. To some, it seems impenetrable and a bit boring. Others really like it a lot, and this column is dedicated to them. A subsection of the classical genre, chamber music, annually is performed right here in Laguna Beach. Chamber music is...

Classical music isn’t for everyone. To some, it seems impenetrable and a bit boring. Others really like it a lot, and this column is dedicated to them.

A subsection of the classical genre, chamber music, annually is performed right here in Laguna Beach. Chamber music is played in small quarters with spectators no more than 40 feet from the performers. Being that close means you hear lower lows and higher highs. You can feel the bass in your chest. You can feel the high notes; the skin on your arms physically tingles from the higher highs.

My Laguna friend Joan Halvajian started the Laguna Beach Music Festival 15 years ago, and I was one or her original supporters. I came to like chamber music while living in New York when one of my friends organized a chamber club. We held performances at our apartments. We paid students from music schools measly sums to perform and they were glad for the work. During these performances I learned most chamber pieces last only a few moments and require only a very few performers.

Also in New York, I met my cousin, Orin O’Brien, who was the very first female to play for the New York Philharmonic. At the time, being the first woman “accepted” into the biggest of big league orchestras was momentous. She invited me to a Philharmonic performance and the after-party. There I learned something that shamed me. I was a loan trainee at a giant bank; I was at the bottom of the bank’s ecosystem. Orin and her Philharmonic players were at the top of the music ecosystem, the best. Let me restate that: the best in the world. What I learned at Orin’s after-party was my job as a bank trainee paid one-third more than their jobs as seasoned veterans of the best of the best.

Yes, it was shameful.

Unless you are a star. Perhaps the most famous violinist in the world is Joshua Bell. A few years ago, he was the star attraction of the Laguna Music Festival. I saw him for the first time at a Festival pre-party at the house of Lynda Thomas. Joshua played a Stradivarius violin, which even I—as ignorant as I was—knew was of great value. Stradivarius created his string instruments hundreds of years ago and there are only a few, number unknown, of his violins today existing, and they have unsurpassed tonal quality.

I thought to myself, “Joshua must have one hell of a rich patron who lets him borrow that violin.” Being me, I asked Joshua who actually owned it. He smiled benignly, almost laughed, and then replied, “Me. I heard one was coming up for auction in London, flew there and bought it.” My mouth hung open. Huh? Him, a poor struggling musician? “How much?” I croaked. Another smile. “Over $8 million.”

Orin, I thought, if only you had been a famous soloist.

This year’s Laguna Music Festival was held in February and the last performance was on a Sunday afternoon. It featured an opera soloist named Elizabeth Zharoff. She is an elegantly expressive, 30-year old dark-haired beauty who blew away the audience. She attended the after-party at Lauren and Richard Packard’s home. She sat at an outside patio with some of her L.A. friends. Most were tatted. When I sat at her table, her boyfriend was playing a YouTube piece she would sing minutes later for the after-party group. She sort of knew the tune but did not want to sight-read her performance, so she memorized it as I watched.

After it was done, I asked her if, like in the movies, if people in power had done their best to humiliate her as she moved up the career ladder. She looked at me as if I was a Martian.

She said, “It was worse than the movies.” Pause. “Much worse. I worked my ass off. I still do.”

She, like Orin, is paid beans, and makes her real living by composing music for video games. Hey, it is about selling video games to 10-year olds; fortunes are made from those video games. (OC is home to some of the biggest video game companies in the world.)

This column is done now.

If you’ve read all the way through, you can go watch sports or movies or God forbid, obsess more about Trump. Long after he is toast, chamber music still will be around and so will The Laguna Beach Music Festival. See ya at the cove.

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https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musings-on-the-coast-27/#respondFri, 21 Apr 2017 00:27:48 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=60797Addict Nation We have become a nation of addicts. And you can see it all over Laguna Beach. It comes in three forms: illegal drugs like cocaine or heroin, legal opiates like vicodin, and social media addiction. Just in case you do not know it, social media is chemically addictive. But I get before m...

We have become a nation of addicts. And you can see it all over Laguna Beach. It comes in three forms: illegal drugs like cocaine or heroin, legal opiates like vicodin, and social media addiction.

Just in case you do not know it, social media is chemically addictive.

But I get before myself. Follow me along here.

The Drug Cartels

This is old news. Illegal drugs always have been part of our society, but they exploded with cocaine use in the ‘80s. It was supplied by the Colombian, then Mexican cartels, and was so profitable the cartels went to war with one another and their own governments.

In the ‘90s, crack cocaine’s popularity grew followed quickly by crystal meth. Crystal meth’s attractiveness exploded after 2006 when the U.S. government outlawed one of the main ingredients for cooking meth, and the Chinese substituted a better and cheaper ingredient it sold to the cartels. This enabled the cartels to sell high quality crystal at a low price.

In the meantime, heroin use increased in the suburbs and a new form of addiction became “normal”: functioning heroin addicts. They usually are professionals who spread out small doses to keep a buzz going. The professionals function, but they require very strict routines to maintain their addiction and do not travel because traveling takes them away from their suppliers.

A few weeks ago, I discovered one of my Laguna friends is a functioning heroin addict. He is fine with it. He can handle it, he says, no problem.

Big Pharma

Doctors know most medical problems will go away in time and no drugs are necessary, but patients do not like that. They want instant satisfaction. This is where Big Pharma stepped in. They created legal opiates to prescribe to patients. Pills: instant satisfaction.

There are two downsides to this. Overdose deaths from opiates have quadrupled since 1999 (now over 33,000 per year), and opiates cause great constipation.

But wait, this is the fun part. Now Big Pharma is advertising other drugs for counteracting opiate constipation. One market created another market.

And wait again. Now Big Pharma has created another class of drugs to help you withdraw from opiate addiction. Man, oh man, a triple.

If you are addicted, sooner or later your doctor will get wise and quit issuing prescriptions. This is where the cartels come back into play. They have created a whole class of synthetics you easily can buy in the illegal marketplace. For example, fentanyl; it is 100 times stronger than heroin and it is what killed Prince.

Think of the cartels and Big Pharma as being co-providers, each one reinforcing the other. Ain’t it grand?

Social Media

First, some facts. Social media like Facebook or Instagram make money from advertisers. It is the same as network TV channels selling time for TV ads. The value of a TV ad time slot varies directly with the ratings of any particular show. With social media, “impressions” and clicks substitute for ratings. The more “impressions” on Facebook, the higher the ad rates.

As a consequence, social media companies, all of them, have perfected strategies for causing chemically addictive alterations in the brains of users. Here is how. When something makes you happy, your body gives you a dopamine boast. Dopamine is a natural drug your brain loves; it gives you a high. It is what you get from all forms of pleasure. It is part of our DNA. Social media easily figured out how to create dopamine boasts. They do it by tracking your every click on the web (it is easy) and figure out by your volume of clicks what exactly excites you. That excitement creates a dopamine boast. Then social media feeds you that which causes you to click.

The more clicks, the more they can charge for ads.

Along with stimulating the production of dopamine, social media companies also know how to create a drip of an adrenal-based drug in your brain that causes anxiety if the dopamine jolts stop. If you keep clicking on Facebook, you get your dopamine injection; if you don’t, you get your anxiety injection.

This is called addiction. The average social media addict checks out his or her cell 250-300 times per day. Seen anything like that at your favorite Laguna hangout? You betcha.

Exciting Conclusion

Almost everyone you know is addicted. The only difference is how the addiction behavior is delivered: via cartels, Big Pharma or social media.

It all is the same thing.

There is nothing you can do about it. For the most part, it is legal and each type of addiction reinforces the other types.

Yup, Addict Nation. We’re all there.

And, oh, the first step to curing a problem is to admit it. Ready?

Michael Ray grew up in Corona del Mar and lives in Laguna Beach. He is a real estate entrepreneur involved in many non-profits.

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https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musing-on-the-coast-3/#respondFri, 17 Feb 2017 00:58:20 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=59661The Big Snake This happened about two months ago. I was doing yoga in my master bedroom overlooking Diver’s Cove. I could hear the waves. It was at night, cold and dark. The yoga teacher had had me doing major stomach crunching poses and exercises. At the end, she put me into Shavasana, the part o...

This happened about two months ago. I was doing yoga in my master bedroom overlooking Diver’s Cove. I could hear the waves. It was at night, cold and dark. The yoga teacher had had me doing major stomach crunching poses and exercises.

At the end, she put me into Shavasana, the part of yoga where you lay on your back, close your eyes and “commune” with nature or whatever you wanna call it.

The point of Shavasana is to find the inter-connectedness of us all, everyone and everything. We are one and we are forever. Or something like that. I don’t know. I sort of don’t care. I am a numbers person. I started my professional life working for a regional investment bank in Los Angeles and then moved to New York to work for a huge commercial bank. Today, I do the financing for my real estate company. It is all about the numbers. It is empirical.

In any case, there I was lying face-up on the floor with my arms outstretched. My stomach muscles started to cramp and I thought the teacher had crunched me too much. Something surely was wrong. The spasms were too much.

The cramping turned into a thrashing cylinder about five inches in diameter. It was in the middle of my belly, starting above my crotch and moving upward. It was writhing like a living thing. I felt it go toward my chest and I thought maybe it was a heart attack or a stroke. I wanted to stop it, roll over and get that pipe out of my body.

Instead, the flesh of my neck and my face started writhing, too. The big pipe was moving upward.

Then I knew it was not a big pipe.

It was a big snake. It too was about five inches in diameter. I think it was black. I think it was male. I knew it was not stopping. I knew the snake wanted something.

It wanted out.

Suddenly and somehow the top of my head no longer existed and the big snake was sliding out through my cranium. It was in a hurry. It was rushing, pushing as fast as it could go. It still started at my crotch, rose upward through my stomach along my spine, through my chest, my throat, and then out my skull. My brain up there was totally open and exposed.

The big snake was so monstrously long not all of him could get out. He accelerated instead. He no longer was just rushing. He was frantic. The snake had to get out and I had to let him. I had to stay open.

After it seemed hours, the snake was slowing down, decelerating and I could shut it down, roll over, finish it. But I did not. More of him needed out. After a time, though, he petered out and I did roll over and struggled into sitting. I was asking myself what just happened? The yoga teacher was looking at me strangely and I told her.

She said, “You just experienced Kondalini.” She said it was extremely rare. She said it was associated with a spiritual breakthrough, but also dangerous. Was I okay?

Wikipedia says, “Kundalini is usually described as lying coiled at the base of the spine, represented as either a goddess or sleeping serpent, whose energy is waiting to be awakened. It has been called an unconscious, instinctive or libidinal force, or mother energy or intelligence of complete maturation. It involves the Kundalini [the big snake] physically moving up the central channel [your spine] to reach within the Saharara Chakra at the top of the head.”

I talked to several friends who had practiced yoga for decades. They all know about Kundalini and they all seemed jealous. None had ever experienced it and they all wanted it. They said it was the ultimate point of yoga: to achieve oneness with the “universal cosmic power.”

It also is closely associated with psychotic breakdowns and often linked with migraines, irregular heartbeat, deep depression, antisocial tendencies and disrupted sleep patterns.

Some psychologists think it is perilous, and in the yoga literature one is cautioned against attempting it without the guidance of a yogi master.

As for me, I think of it as The Big Snake. He wanted to get out. He had to get out. It was not particularly associated with me; I just happened to be in the neighborhood when he awakened and began writhing. I was a convenient vessel for the Big Snake to get from one place to the next. That is it.

I go to my secret cove in Laguna and stare out.

Michael Ray grew up in Corona del Mar and lives in Laguna Beach. He is a real estate entrepreneur involved in many non-profits.

Please re-read my column (“Visiting Buenos Aires,” Jan. 5 edition.) I accurately restated the fears of virtually all the Argentinian businessman I met: they are afraid now-President Trump will act with the casual brutality he displayed during his campaign. They said that, not me.

Remember, they have experienced the end point of casual brutality: casual firing squads and the murders of tens of thousands. This has been their recent history. To them, it is not a casual game of name calling.

That Trump has huge conflicts of interest is hardly news. That he is widely loathed, a word you used, not me, is hardly news either.

The first thing a new dictator attempts to do is intimidate the press, which is why our founders created the First Amendment. Trump now is doing the same thing, as are you in your letter.

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https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musings-on-the-coast-26/#commentsFri, 06 Jan 2017 00:53:46 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=58936Visiting Buenos Aires I went on a last minute visit to Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina, because Trump won. Let me explain. My longtime friend and fellow (much more) active Democrat is the current U.S. Ambassador to Argentina, Noah Mamet. Ambassador Mamet had long invited me to stay at The Res...

I went on a last minute visit to Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina, because Trump won. Let me explain. My longtime friend and fellow (much more) active Democrat is the current U.S. Ambassador to Argentina, Noah Mamet. Ambassador Mamet had long invited me to stay at The Residence of the Ambassador as his guest. In this, I was not unique; Noah has a lot of friends and the Residence has many guest rooms.

I’ve been to Buenos Aires before. It takes 20 hours, at least one airline connection, and five time-zone changes from Laguna to get there if nothing goes wrong. Once there, the exhausting action begins: the locals are infectious entertainers, dinner does not start until 10 and the usual bedtime is between 2 and 4 a.m. Not just on weekends. Every night. But I had to go; it was a bucket list thing.

So I tarried until Hillary lost. Then I had to visit right away because Noah was resigning on Inauguration Day, Jan. 20. And it had to be before Christmas because after that, Noah’s schedule would be too crammed with well-wishers.

Buenos Aires and its culture are quite European. The people are a mish-mash of immigrants from all over Western and Eastern Europe, Lebanon, Syria, other Arab states, China, Sweden, Finland, Japan, Korea, Sicily, Southern Europe and so on. That means the genetic mixture is intense, which results in a healthier, smarter and prettier population, which numbers about 13 million. Its GDP is not that big and it would be much larger except for generations of corruption and brutal juntas.

During the 1970s and ‘80s, under the U.S.-supported policy of “anti-communism,” tens of thousands of “dissidents” were murdered. The locals say they “were disappeared.” (Strange: when I visited Beijing during the ’08 Olympics, the locals said the same thing of the multiples who also had “disappeared.” Murder was so commonplace the name lost its meaning.). The ruling Argentinian presidents robbed the country, rewarded their followers, and did their best to destroy any productive, may I say capitalistic, behavior.

Their previous president, Cristina Kirchner, in office from 2007 to 2015, was a stone-cold disaster, with rampant corruption, high inflation and a national debt she defaulted. However, the current president, Mauricio Macri, runs a tight and honest ship, has honored the national debt and restored vibrancy to the naturally vibrant Argentineans. You can feel it: the country is buzzing with activity.

For me, despite my exhaustion, I enjoyed every minute, especially seeing Noah toasted over and over by the many businessmen and government officials he had helped with U.S.-Argentinean issues and the the embassy staff. Many openly wept at a going away barbecue at the Residence. Ambassador Mamet was in his natural element and it is sad he cannot continue.

But there was something else, too, something sinister: an oft-stated fear about the U.S. This did not come from Noah. It came from the many local businessmen I met. Just as Argentina is righting itself, America, the dream of everyone in South America, seems to be entering a period of arbitrary and corrupt behavior so common in South America. Trump has extreme conflicts of economic interest and a casual brutality so many junta leaders exhibit. They are worried that the United States of America, a shining beacon of stability and rule by law, is entering a period that will be just as corrupt and destabilizing as generations of Argentinean tin dictators.

The U.S. Ambassador’s residence is a 40,000 square foot palace. It was built in 1915 and is a stunning example of traditional French classicism. The U.S. originally bought it to serve as the U.S. Embassy, and then outgrew it and it became the Ambassador’s Residence. The only way to understand it is to think of the TV show “Downton Abbey,” with elegant public rooms and a maze of dingy hallways for the staff. Before Noah arrived, the Residence was often referred to as “the museum” because it was not used much. Ambassador Mamet saw instead a great opportunity and activated it with scores of on-site functions, retreats, speaking salons, and dinner parties. He also bought an old-fashioned pool table for one of the front salons. He said it was much more friendly than sitting in formal rooms and at the end of the evening, everyone always ended up there.

I left Buenos Aires after five nights. I had not seen nearly enough and had just gotten over my jet lag, but it was Christmas back home and I had to go. After that, it took me another week to re-adjust and catch up on my sleep.

During the inauguration, I will be in Mexico. I will be at a small surfer-fishing village called Sayulita. I will bring my boogie board and go with my girlfriend Kim Bowen, her two kids and some friends. We will not follow the news. We will be gone from the United States when that symbol of U.S. degeneration is inaugurated.

Fun fact: on New Year’s Eve, President-Elect Trump spent it at his Mar Del Lago club, where he appeared in person and charged extra bucks for admission to view him from across the room.

Yes, now it really does begin.

Michael Ray grew up in Corona del Mar and lives in Laguna Beach. He is a real estate entrepreneur involved in many non-profits.

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https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musings-on-the-coast-25/#respondThu, 01 Dec 2016 22:55:38 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=58359Spectacular Creatures in Our Midst As loyal readers of this column know, I am a Laguna Beach waterman. I venture to my local (secret) cove almost every day the weather allows, kayak, snorkel, hang out with the other locals, and enjoy this wonderland we call home. The best thing we locals really li...

As loyal readers of this column know, I am a Laguna Beach waterman. I venture to my local (secret) cove almost every day the weather allows, kayak, snorkel, hang out with the other locals, and enjoy this wonderland we call home.

The best thing we locals really like, or should I say, over which we freak out, is spotting whales close offshore. Or dolphins. If you see some, you paddle after them as fast as you can and marvel at their beauty and strength.

After a while, we began to research these creatures and here is what we found right off our own waters:

Dolphins

There are two types of dolphins: big ones and little ones. The big ones are called bottlenose dolphins. They grow to 12 feet and 1,100 pounds. They have short, stubby beaks (hence, the name “bottlenose”). They can swim up to 18 mph and dive to 800 feet. They travel in small pods and are friendly.

The little ones are called Pacific white-sided dolphins. Fully grown, they are about eight feet and 300 pounds. They are very fast and love to leap out of the water and do flips. Their pods are large, off Laguna about 30 or more, but in northern climes, in the hundreds.

Sea lions

Fully-grown sea lion females weigh about 400 pounds, males 600 pounds. Alpha males fight over the females and have harems. Both sexes can dart through the water at 24 mph. A few years ago, scores lived on Seal Rock, a big reef about a quarter mile off Crescent Bay Point. Now most are gone and no one really knows why. Various theories abound: poisoned by Fukushima radiation, new types of viruses, lack of local food, deliberate poisoning, and so on. Laguna’s Pacific Marine Mammal Rescue Centers rescues, rehabilitates and releases them. Personally, I think they’ve simply moved to Newport Harbor, which now is a refuge for them.

Blue whales

The largest creature ever on planet Earth, weighing up to 200 tons with tongues alone weighing more than fully-grown elephants. Mature ones are 100 feet long and a twice the size of the largest dinosaurs. Underwater, they look blue. They can communicate over 1,000s of miles, meaning every blue whale on the planet can be in communication with every other. They travel alone or in pairs and typically stay several miles offshore.

Gray whales

Mature ones weigh 40 tons and are 50 feet long. They typically are covered with barnacles that make their snouts and backs look like crusty ocean rock. They filter their food through baleen, a comb-like strainer on plates in the upper jaw. They migrate a stunning 12,000-miles round trip from Alaska to Mexico and back. They are migrating south right now.

Humpback whales

Weigh in at 20 tons and 50 feet. They have stocky bodies, an obvious hump, and elongated pectoral fines. They are known for their spectacular breaching and are rare off Laguna. However, in recent years, this seems to be changing as more local sightings are reported, including a truly spectacular series of breaches one afternoon off our cove.

Orcas

They often are called killer whales but are part of the dolphin family. They are the largest and most powerful predator in the ocean. They feed off fish, squid, seabirds, seals, sea lions and even other whales. By whale standards, they’re not that big: mature orcas are about 30 feet long and weigh six tons. Like all dolphins, they travel in pods and are known for their distinctive white belly and face patches and their large dorsal fin, which when it droops, it is thought, demonstrates unhappiness.

They are very social and frolic joyfully, even with humans, playing tricks like moving objects humans are chasing. Off Laguna or Newport, they are rare but recently there have been a flurry of sightings and they seem to be increasing.

More

Obviously, there are many, many more species off Laguna and we are lucky our local ocean has been declared a no-fish zone, so marine life is increasing.

One local, Rich German, almost daily SUPs for hours, venturing out miles in search of dolphins and whales with a GoPro strapped to his head for photos.

Over the last few years, Rich became determined to help save our oceans and started his own non-profit called Project O to do exactly that. Recently, he published a picture book of his favorite ocean creatures.

Rich took all the photos right off our shores and they are gorgeous.

The book called “Blue Laguna” is hot off the press. Rich is having a book release party at the Royal Hawaiian on Saturday, Dec. 3, 2:30 and 5 p.m. No cover charge. Come by and enjoy not only it, but also live music and the newly renovated Royal Hawaiian.

It’ll be worth it. After all, it is our Laguna.

Michael Ray grew up in Corona del Mar and lives in Laguna Beach. He is a real estate entrepreneur involved in many non-profits.

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https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musings-on-the-coast-24/#commentsFri, 11 Nov 2016 03:56:19 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=57987 Slavery in the Modern World I’ve been reading a lot of ancient and middle-age history lately. I wanted to know how it was to be alive then. What could one expect? Here it is: It was tribal. It was all about your tribe surviving the next onslaught. Those onslaughts never could be categorized b...

I’ve been reading a lot of ancient and middle-age history lately. I wanted to know how it was to be alive then. What could one expect?

Here it is:

It was tribal. It was all about your tribe surviving the next onslaught. Those onslaughts never could be categorized because there were too many to keep count. Hence the primary assumption: always be suspicious of outsiders.

Tribes were at constant war. Resources were scarce, so the battle for them was constant. The Vikings invaded what would become England and France because in their own territory it was too cold to grow good crops. Further, death rates were very high and tribes would invade others solely to capture enough people to survive as a tribe.

The losers were killed or enslaved. This is not an exaggeration. The older men and women were slaughtered, the younger ones enslaved, the boys put to work, and the girls impregnated so as to perpetuate minimally survivable tribal population counts.

Slavery was the normal human condition. It was the ultimate bi-furcation of wealth: the .01% owned almost everything, including human beings, who were at their disposal. This was true in ancient Greece, the Roman Empire, the Dark Ages, and so on until the Enlightenment and ultimately when the United States of America drew a line and fought a Civil War for the world to see.

The rest of the world did see it. In the last 100 years, more freedom—if not peace— has come to mankind than at any time in history. Unfortunately, outside the Western world, this was hardly universal and today slavery still exists in horrific numbers.

And women arose. Countries all over the globe saw the rise of women, who brought a whole new sensibility, including kindness, to politics. Even Germany’s Angela Merkel, the ultimate hardass, had a soft spot for refugees.

The backlash. In current years, there has been a giant backlash against all those “uppity bitches.” The male chauvinist hatred against women steadily grew in numbers and in anger. Then they met Trump; they had a champion and the movement blossomed.

The “Hillary effect.” Think of it as this: if in an otherwise neutral world, if some deep voice slithered out and licked your ear and whispered, then shouted, “Hillary is a crook”—-if that kept happening to you, over and over and over, what would you think?

The backlash was magnified by the “Hillary effect”. She is so hated in America that the haters no longer can remember why they hate. They only know hating Hillary is a necessary condition for saving America. She is the ultimate uppity bitch.

Women re-objectified. In Trump’s world, women appropriately should be viewed as ornaments. Except a few like his daughters—except oh jeez, he objectivized them, too—like I was saying, there is a worldwide backlash of males against females. It is real. The public symptoms are obvious. Just look around.

It is dangerous. If a woman is a bitch, it is okay to hit her, she’s gotta know her place. It is the American thing to do.

I could go on. The logic trail is so airtight one could run with it for a 100 pages. And if one follows the logic trail to its end, one would find there are not too many pretty endings.

So I analogize it to slavery. Men do not want women as equals. They want them to be what they always were: subordinate. Women should know their place. Women should not try for anything other than perfect motherhood, and certainly not run for the presidency of the United States of America.

This does affect you. Trump has legitimized the most base and cruel instincts of every disaffected crazy splinter faction. Random violence toward women, especially those with dark skin, has increased. This will not stop soon. Even in Laguna the shadowy hoods lurk.

Michael Ray grew up in Corona del Mar and lives in Laguna Beach. He is a real estate entrepreneur involved in many non-profits.

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https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musings-on-the-coast-23/#commentsFri, 21 Oct 2016 01:26:50 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=57450Drifting to Dysfunction We all know the national election is a disgrace. In hindsight, I guess it was inevitable and I am hardly the first to state it. Angry talk radio, Fox News, internet hate sites, and ultimately Trump ripping away the gentlemanly façade of the Republican Party. We all know this....

We all know the national election is a disgrace. In hindsight, I guess it was inevitable and I am hardly the first to state it. Angry talk radio, Fox News, internet hate sites, and ultimately Trump ripping away the gentlemanly façade of the Republican Party. We all know this.

For all practical purposes the Republican Party is dysfunctional. Think of Republican House Speaker Paul Ryan and how he is trapped in election hell. His problem, and that of the party, is the alt-right controls enough congressional seats (because of gerrymandering after the last census of 2010) that absolutely nothing of national consequence has been accomplished nor will it be. The whole country is a victim.

All of the above—all of it—is so well known no one cares much anymore. The real issues are lost. The country drifts.

Laguna is drifting, too, and just as badly. Decisions of importance are not happening. They are not happening because alt-crazy-Lagunatics have trapped Laguna just as surely as the alt-right has trapped Paul Ryan.

Let me explain what I mean by the term “alt-crazy-Lagunatics.” First, you know who you are. You either belong to one of the opposed-to-everything groups or you individually believe the best Laguna is a city that never changes—that it can and should be caught in a time warp in which its planning and architecture was frozen in 1955. And you attend public meetings, boy, do you attend public meetings, and you talk endlessly at them.

Secondly, it is important for readers to know that city staff is professional, courteous, helpful and efficient. We cannot reasonably ask for more. Ditto the City Council. However, neither is in control.

The alt-crazy-Lagunatics are.

Witness:

Parking: We are under-parked. Many schemes have been introduced to alleviate it. But the alt-crazy-Lagunatics oppose it. They spew that more parking will invite more crowds, so oppose any of it. Their rhetoric is simply not true. Trying to stop the crowds is like trying to stop rising tides.

Design Review: a good idea. No one wants Laguna to become as ruined as old Corona del Mar with its row houses crowding out its beauty. But alt-crazy-Lagunatics are so set against changing anything, city approval for innovation kills it. The whole process is a prime example of self-professed experts becoming bullies. It is uncivil, undemocratic and frankly cruel.

Public Art: our hotel tax provides ample funds for public art. The City of Newport Beach does not and will not, yet it’s new Civic Center Sculpture Garden features infinitely better public art than any of our pathetic pieces. Laguna, the City of the Arts, is the amateur. Why? Answer: those who pick our art are in fact amateurs.

The Village Entrance: I am not sure Laguna Canyon Road needs a village entrance at the beginning of the city proper, but a lot of people do, and what is happening? The alt-crazy-Lagunatics hate anything innovative and so good ideas expire.

Downtown Business Restrictions: otherwise known as stupid micro-management of what shop owners can do. Despite a great economy, downtown businesses are struggling and vacancy is rising. They are struggling because alt-crazy-Lagunatics insist micro-management of businesses is in our best interests. This is deranged. The internet has changed everything and Laguna is so behind the curve its retail businesses are its victims.

Historic Preservation: If you own a home some “expert” put on the city’s historic list, you don’t really own the right to do anything with it. Now the alt-crazy-Lagunatics are pushing to list a group of some 550 homes as “historic.” In one fell swoop. It would constitute an illegal “public taking without compensation” (legally known as inverse condemnation). The 5th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution prevents such takings, and without doubt there would be a class-action law suit. The city would lose. The alt-crazy-Lagunatics do not know and do not care.

Bicycle paths on public streets: We have none. The argument is the streets are too narrow. This is hogwash. Even NYC has bicycle paths on its public streets.

There is more. The alt-crazy-Lagunatics are not very numerous but they are very, very noisy and they show up at all the public meetings. They loudly get into the faces of our politicians and terrify them. They are like Trump, seemingly somehow rational at first blush, then more and more consumed with narcissistic self-importance. Our city staff, no matter how good it is, has its hands tied. We are dysfunctional. If you are looking for a quick change, good luck.

Michael Ray grew up in Corona del Mar and lives in Laguna Beach. He is a real estate entrepreneur involved in many non-profits.

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https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musings-on-the-coast-22/#respondFri, 12 Aug 2016 15:27:32 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=55983Late In the Evening The scene: Art Walk Laguna, August, 2016. My mood: tired and cranky. I had been working on a giant apartment deal and was drained. I wanted only to stay home, stare at TV and go to bed early. But my daughter, Gabby, 23, would not let me. She said I had to go see her friend Savann...

I had been working on a giant apartment deal and was drained. I wanted only to stay home, stare at TV and go to bed early. But my daughter, Gabby, 23, would not let me. She said I had to go see her friend Savannah Gardner’s gig at The Laguna Coffee Company. Savannah has a voice like the Sweet Bird of Paradise and the face and demeanor of an angel.

We all love her, Gabby and my son Harrison and all their pals. Everyone was going. I had to go too or face the wrath of Gabby.

So I did my yoga, showered, dressed, and reluctantly started driving.

The streets were packed and traffic at a crawl.

The nearest parking place was many blocks from the coffee shop. It was hot and sticky. And it was 8:30; her gig would end at 9. I had to hurry.

But the sidewalks were jammed. One had to slide between slow moving clusters of people, rotating sideways, being bumped, bumping, muttering pardon me, pardon me. Sweat was running down my back. My mood quickened and darkened.

Then I heard music. It was coming from one of the art galleries. It was loud, a fast beat, surging. It caused me to pause. It reminded me of something.

Suddenly and out of the blue, I flashed back to my days in New York and summer nights in the Village. The people, the music, the panoply. The elation in the air. The expectations.

Enjoy it, I thought, look around and enjoy it. Get your act together. Sit for a moment. So I did on steps leading to one of the shops. I leaned back, closed my eyes and listened.

I flashed again, now to Paul Simon’s song “Late In The Evening.” It is about NYC in the summer, the women in thin summer dresses with drops of perspiration glistening on their skin. It is about the action and it is about the music. But mostly, it is about the magic of a hot night in the city.

That was Laguna this night.

I stood, my eyes open now, walking slowly. On every other block was a band. Almost all stores were open. The people were of all ages, nationalities, families, couples, singles. They were strolling about enjoying the animation and energy. It was Laguna and it was New York and it was fabulous.

I arrived at The Laguna Coffee Company. Savannah was jamming on her guitar and singing. She saw me, smiled her wonderful smile. I went to the outside area for a seat where a good fifteen of her friends, my friends now too, all listened to her yet talking, animated, young and alive. After each song, they clapped and yelled in applause. Some danced in place in the small spaces they occupied and I felt the same. Go with it. Go with it.

At 9, on time, the gig ended and I drifted back to my car. Now I did so in a trance, looking. The shops were bright and full of Laguna’s funky vibe. Damn, I thought, this was NYC’s Village. The same vibe. The same power. The same perspiration and the same drops. The same voluptuousness in the air. Different time, different place, but the same.

I could only smile. I was lucky. I had been in NYC at the right time for me and now I was in Laguna at the right time for me, and they both were paradise; and somehow on this hot sticky night one and the same.

Thank you, Lord, even though you don’t exist and if you do, you’re an insect or a speck or a river of possibilities from which one is plucked at random or you watch and laugh—whatever you are, thank you. Yes, thank you. We all exist here, now, and this is our bliss.

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https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musing-on-the-coast-2/#commentsThu, 21 Jul 2016 23:51:52 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=55654My Tribe I never fit in anywhere. In high school, I was in student politics, “smart” classes, many clubs, and an early surfer. Yet I was not of any of them. I did not feel comfortable around any particular group. I felt alone, isolated. This is not unusual for a teenager, but the feeling followe...

I never fit in anywhere. In high school, I was in student politics, “smart” classes, many clubs, and an early surfer. Yet I was not of any of them. I did not feel comfortable around any particular group. I felt alone, isolated. This is not unusual for a teenager, but the feeling followed me all my life.

In college, there were fraternities, but I did not see the point. All that secret society nonsense? Huh? I liked my economics major, but not one teacher truly inspired me and the students were banal. After that, I was the So Cal chair of the “youth campaign” for a U.S. Senate race, and although the people were certainly motivated, no one believed in much except winning.

I worked for a prominent regional investment bank in downtown L.A. and thought most of the brokers were crooks (they were), the system rigged (it is), and if there was a slow-selling IPO, the bosses simply increased the commission to the brokers and voila, done deal. After one year, I got the whole covenant, I knew how the system worked, and it was depressing.

Then it was in grad school for an MBA. It was a necessary credential for jump-starting my career. It succeeded. What was then the world’s most prestigious bank hired me and I moved to New York City. My group, the young MBAs hired that year, comprised the best and brightest in America and came from the best schools. Yet they seemed disconnected, too, distracted, searching like me, and not finding it either.

Then it was back to Newport where I had inherited a small construction and development company. Most local real estate players were USC types with USC values, whose first expensive purchase was a Rolex watch. I endured it.

Two years ago I took the summer off and hung out at my local cove. Even though I’ve always been a waterman, I never hung out. I would either surf or kayak, but I did not hang out. That summer was different. Although eventually I took my water time, mostly I just hung out with the locals.

It took me less than a month to realize it; they were my tribe. They are of all ages, backgrounds, and economic status. All love the ocean. They surf, or snorkel, free dive, skin dive, kayak, SUP or sail. One guy fitted his kayak with an outboard motor and cruised all the way to Catalina and back without a chase boat.

The sole requirement for club “membership” (ha, ha) is to be nice. We share our equipment, beach chairs, umbrellas. If someone has a problem, the cove helps. It is organic, not planned. It happens. Our parties are impromptu; someone brings fresh sushi and a bottle.

Our oldest member is a former WWII pilot. One is a yoga-surfer girl with a great voice, who spends her winters in Costa Rica. Another is a famous artist, who died her dog’s paws black because it looks cool. Another is a guy who SUPs for hours with a Go-Pro strapped to his forehead and takes vids of dolphins and whales. One more is the drummer in a successful country rock group. Another, the only one I will name, is King Brad. He is called king because he is King of the Cove; he knows everyone and all their names and secrets; when one local single woman had a baby, he moved into her place the first few months to help.

There are many other members and they know who they are. Sometimes there is a blow-up, but it never lasts long. It is not natural. Better instead to dive into the shore break. It is all about Mother Nature.

You honor Mother Nature. She is stronger than you and more capricious. Let me restate: she is way more capricious. If you make one stupid mistake while in the water, you become eligible for an early death. Even if you do everything correctly, she might kill you just because of wrong time, wrong place. She does not care and you know it.

The whole thing is spiritual. It is of our existence. It is our life.

This is my tribe. I finally found it.

Michael Ray grew up in Corona del Mar and lives in Laguna Beach. He is a real estate entrepreneur involved in many non-profits.

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https://www.lagunabeachindy.com/musings-coast-22-4/#respondFri, 01 Jul 2016 21:57:46 +0000http://www.lagunabeachindy.com/?p=55285Considering China We’re afraid of China. It is taking over the world. Trump uses it as a theme. China takes unfair advantage of trade. They cheat. They are more than a billion strong and it is only a matter of time before they overwhelm us. China’s economic miracle is our economic disaster. It own...

We’re afraid of China. It is taking over the world. Trump uses it as a theme. China takes unfair advantage of trade. They cheat. They are more than a billion strong and it is only a matter of time before they overwhelm us. China’s economic miracle is our economic disaster. It owns $3 trillion of U.S. debt and has us by the short hairs.

They quickly are becoming tourist fixtures in Laguna Beach and buying our homes at absurd prices because they can.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

I am here to assure you of one thing: this talk is nonsense. China ain’t taking over anything. Its economy is in free fall.

Listen. Economic bubbles happen continuously because people get caught up in waves and fads. Our worst latest fad was housing, which was fueled by easy, no-down, no-doc debt. Waitresses in Vegas came to own five houses, speculating like crazy, because they could. The money pump never was going to stop.

Until it did. Thence the collapse in ’08.

That is happening in China now. The whole economy is so over-leveraged it makes most other bubbles in the last 100 years look puny. There are five big banks, all owned by the government; they are leveraged to the hilt and choking on bad loans. Visual evidence includes hundreds of millions of square feet of new and entirely empty office buildings. It is crazy. Gravity exists.

Let me define three economic terms (and don’t stop reading, it gets more interesting). Capitalism is when the means of production is owned by private enterprise and is done for a profit. Communism is when the means of production is owned by the government and is done to supply need. (Keep reading). Fascism is when the means of production is owned by the government and done for a profit.

By that definition, China is a fascist country. The individuals who have become rich did so in “partnership” with the government. I should say the many governments in China because although there is only one central government (sort of), there are thousands of regional and city governments.

Everyone plays hands-down on the table. You bring your own cash. Or you borrow it. You play or you lose.

Now China has a new dictator. His name is Xi Jinping and his major “initiative” is to root out corruption in government. This, of course, is a façade for him to eliminate rivals, consolidate personal power, and allow his own friends to enjoy the benefits of his personal power.

This means existing rich people need to get the hell out. They are fleeing. They flood Newport Coast, Beverly Hills, Irvine, and other favored destinations. They are getting out while the getting is good. The new government is attempting to stop the avalanche of transfers of money out, but the entire system is too porous and cash gushes.

In the meantime, China’s one-child policy has resulted in it aging more rapidly than any other country in the world (except Japan). The average age is 37, dangerously high; there are fewer and fewer people to support elders. Further, the workers are less content to be drones in factories, which now themselves produce more goods than the world wants, and are dying.

Then there is pollution. The whole country has become an environmental dumping ground. Toxic waste everywhere. The main rivers are dead and drying up. There is a shortage of clean water, clean air, clean food, clean non-toxic anything.

China’s official economic figures are sketchy, universally deemed unreliable by leading economists. Yet even those figures are crumbling. In an effort to support its currency, China last year sold $500 billion of U.S. Treasuries and it did little good. Its foreign currency reserves are dwindling and its real alternatives (beyond belligerence) are few.

There will be no soft landing for China. Its move to an open, law-abiding, democratic economic system has failed. Today, it has reverted to an old fashioned dictatorship. And as usual, current spoils are reserved for those who have power now.

Your new Chinese friends at the bistro are grateful to be here, grateful for America, and whoa, grateful for Laguna.

You betcha.

Michael Ray grew up in Corona del Mar and lives in Laguna Beach. He is a real estate entrepreneur involved in many non-profits.